“Who was that?” I asked when he hung up.
“That was Henry Foster.”
“I thought you were finished with his job.”
“Well, not exactly,” he answered with a sly smile. “I pretended to forget a few things at his house. I just wanted an excuse to go back. See how he’s doing and all.”
I gave him a 13)crushing hug.
“You are just the sweetest thing.”
“Oh, hush.”
工程结束大约一个月后，我无意中听到斯蒂芬在电话里说，“我大概一小时后到那儿。”
“你在和谁讲电话？”他挂电话时，我问道。
“和亨利·福斯特呢。”
“我以为你已经完成他那里的工作了。”
“噢，还不算。”他狡猾地笑着说道，“我假装落了一些东西在他屋子里。只是想找个借口回去看看他怎么样了。”
我给他来了一个紧紧的拥抱。
“你是世界上最最善良的人！”
“噢，小声点儿。”
Stephen continued making excuses to visit Henry until he ran out of excuses. He began visiting his friend just for the sake of visiting. Not long after his last visit to Henry, the early arrival of our first baby steered our lives in a different direction, then another baby ten months later 14)eclipsed our social calendar. Everything outside our home became secondary, including a sweet old man named Henry Foster.
斯蒂芬继续找各种借口去看亨利，直到没什么借口可找了，于是他开始光明正大地为看朋友而去看他的朋友。他最后一次去看亨利之后不久，我们的第一个孩子提早到来，我们的生活重心从此改变。10个月后，另一个孩子也出生了，更是让我们没有了任何的社交活动。我们家以外的所有东西都成了次要的，包括一个名叫亨利·福斯特的友善的老头。
As we immersed ourselves into our family, the years rolled by. We had two more babies, and our house demanded our full attention to accommodate our burgeoning family. Our priorities shifted. Guilt bubbled up every now and then when we took a moment to inventory our collection and reminisce about the time we bought a particular piece. Stephen would sigh and say, “I wonder how the old guy is doing.”
我们完全沉浸在家庭生活的同时，年月也在一点一点流逝。我们后来又有了两个孩子，家里人丁兴旺，我们得全副心思考虑怎么改装房子才能住得舒舒服服。我们的生活重心转移了。每当我们花些时间盘点我们收藏的东西，回忆买下每件特别物品的那些时光时，内疚感就会不时地涌上心头。斯蒂芬总会叹息地说：“不知道那老头怎么样了。”
One Sunday we filled up our gas tank and took to the 15)back roads, soaking up the scenery. Stephen took a sudden turn.
一个周日，我们给车加满了油，开到乡村小路上，欣赏着沿途的景色。斯蒂芬忽然急转弯。
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
“我们要去哪儿？”我问。
“你等会就知道了。”
He navigated 16)a myriad of streets unfamiliar to me, then slowed down in front of one particular house, a two-story structure with plastic toys littering the front yard and Christmas lights, one month out of season, still stapled to the 17)eaves. Several pecan trees arched up from behind the home, the winter sun streaming through their bare branches.
他驶过无数我全然陌生的街道，然后在一栋很特别的房子前面慢慢停了下来。那是一栋两层的建筑物，前院杂乱地堆放着一些塑料玩具，过时一个月的圣诞灯依然钉在屋檐上。几棵山核桃树从房子后面呈拱形伸展出来。冬日的阳光在它们光秃秃的枝间涌动着。
“Who lives here, Daddy?” one of our boys 18)piped up.
Stephen swallowed hard.
“I knew a man who used to live here. His name was Henry Foster.”
“Was he a nice man?”
“Yes, Cody, he was a nice man. A very nice man.”
“Where is he?”
Stephen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“Well,” he finally replied, his eyes misting. “I believe he went on a long vacation with his wife.”
Pulling from the curb, I noticed two squirrels chasing each other up one of the pecan trees.
“爸爸，谁住在这儿？”我们的一个儿子尖声问道。
斯蒂芬强抑情绪。
“我认识一个人，之前一直住在这里。他的名字叫亨利·福斯特。”
“他是一个好人吗？”
“嗯，科迪，他是一个好人。很友善。”
“他去哪儿了？”
斯蒂芬深吸了一口气，然后慢慢呼了出来。
“这个，”他终于回答了，眼里闪着泪水。“我相信，他是和妻子一起去度长假了。”
开车走的时候，我留意到两只松鼠互相追逐着，爬上了其中一棵山核桃树。
